The last time I saw my Angels play a meaningful game was September 30th of 2007 against the Oakland Athletics on the road. The game ended in a 3-2 loss when former Angel’s first round-pick Chris Bootcheck gave up 3 hits in the bottom of the 9th. Having already clinched a spot in the playoffs the game was probably meaningless to many Angels’ fans and many of the Angels’ players probably felt the same.
Given my propensity to literally drop everything I’m doing to watch the Angels play, I’m sure you’re a bit surprised that I didn’t mention the last game I saw being Game 3 of the ALDS against Boston. Well, there’s a good reason for that. You see, I spent the entire month of October isolated in the Grand Canyon on a rafting trip with no way to contact the outside world. No Internet, No Cell-phone, No anything. So when the rest of Southern California was preparing for Game 1 at Fenway I was busy preparing not to drown in Class 4 rapids.
So there I was, out on the river with my thoughts of the Angels beating the Red Sox and eventually advancing to their second World Series Appearance in five years. How glorious it all seemed. In my own delirious mind the Angels were the best team in baseball. Sure the only Angel to hit more than 25 home runs was Vlad Guerrero (he was also the only Angels to drive in more than 100 runs ), but none of that mattered because I saw the same potential on that squad that I saw with the 2002 team. They had a moxie and competitive fire that they had used all season long to squeak out close victories and secure come from behind wins. The pitching staff was rock solid and the team speed on basepath was gaga (yes that’s a word).
Did I have second thoughts about missing the Angels playoff run to experience a once in a lifetime adventure, sure, but I knew the Halos would be just fine without me. So on October 1st I departed down the Colorado River with nothing but positivity and optimism on my mind. Then came October 3rd. I remember the moment it hit me. I was having a blast navigating some treacherous rapids with my group. The sun was glistening off the river as I sat on a boulder watching the water go by. I was at peace and felt one with nature and then it suddenly dawned on me that the Game 1 of the ALDS was that evening. Gulp. It wasn’t a hot day, but definitely wasn’t cold. I could feel a bead of sweat starting build on my brow and a lump building in my throat. The Angels were about the start playoff baseball against those pale-yuppies from Boston and I was going to miss it.
“Don’t worry about it”, I told myself (literally, I said those exact words out loud to myself), you’ve got nothing to worry about, right? I mean, sure the Angels seemed to get owned every time they played the Red Sox, but this was the playoffs, things would be different.
The next day was October 4th and I was no longer thinking about paddling hard to get our raft around gigantic protruding boulders. I was consumed with the thought of the Angels losing Game 1. October 5th, 6th and 7th was no different. Although I was enjoying myself on the river, I was not completely in the moment because part of me was still attached to the fantasy playoff games going on in my head.
By October 11th I could have been deemed clinically insane. I knew that tonight would be Game 5 of the Angels playoff series against Boston. It had been over 10 days since I watched the Angels drop the final game of the season to the A’s and now I was starting to feel a little bit delusional. I had convinced myself that the Angels had beat Boston in four games and we’re preparing to meet the Yankees in the ALCS. Yes, it was incredible.
The next day when we stopped for lunch we were surprised to see people that were not members of our group. The three men at the camp site had hiked down from the rim of the Grand Canyon and were as surprised to see us as we were to see them. After thirty seconds of small talk about the river and our adventures up to that point I mustered up the courage to ask, “So you wouldn’t happen to know any of the MLB Playoff results, would you?” “Sure” replied the eldest of the group, “the Rockies swept the Phillies and the Diamondbacks swept the Cubs.” “Wow” I replied, “what about the Angels, please tell me they won”.
Before responding the man looked a bit puzzled. “Well, I’m actually not sure about their series”, he mumbled, “I’m a fan of the NL and wasn’t paying that much attention to the other series before I left to come to the Grand Canyon”. I knew the man was just being honest, but I felt that he had just reached into my chest and pulled out my heart Kano-style. #*^&*%*&%^!!! How do you only the follow the NL? What is this, 1913? For God’s sake, it’s Major League Baseball; you get the whole package when you’re a baseball fan, not just one league or the other. Furious inside, I wrapped up the conversation as politely as possible (using zero curse words) and walked away. In two days we would be at a place called Phantom Ranch (a desolate cabin in the middle of nowhere) where I might have the chance to make a phone call.
October 13th is a day I’ll remember for the rest of my life. After docking our rafts on shore we started the half-mile hike to Phantom Ranch. It was a blur. All I could think about was making that phone call and hearing my brother tell me all about Angels’ victories. After reaching Phantom Ranch, I made a b-line for the phone and dialed the only phone number I remember these days, the number for my brother Shawn.
(Ring Ring … Ring Ring …)
Shawn – “Hello, this is Shawn”
Me – “Shawn, its Evan!
Shawn – “Hey, what’s happening bro, I didn’t think I’d be heari …”
Me – “Angels. Tell me the Angels beat the Red Sox?”
Shawn – (Silence)
A million thoughts raced through my head. Silence wasn’t a bad thing, right? Maybe he was trying to think of the words to describe a walk-off homer, or how Figgins stole home to secure a victory. Or wait, maybe he was gonna tell me that the Angels had already won the first game of the ALCS!
Shawn – “Uh, the Angels got swept Ev. They pitched and hit really bad.”
Me – “………………………………………………………..”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. They got swept. Really? How was that possible? They couldn’t even muster a win against the Red Sox. All of the make-believe games that I had played in my head were as far from reality as possible. The Angels had been swept and their season was over. We spoke for a few minutes more about family and a new job that he had just started, but I can’t remember much more than that. My mind was still clouded with his mention of the sweep.
I had to start putting that behind me now. It was final. The Angels had been eliminated from the playoffs by a bunch of dancing bafoons and it was time to think ahead. I needed to start thinking positive and focus on the inevitable things that surely went well while I was away.
Me – “I can’t believe they got swept. I don’t even want to know how it happened.” Deciding it was time to lighten the conversation up a bit I uttered, “Well, at least USC beat Stanford.”
Shawn – (Silence)
We all know how well that game went.
Well, that was 2007, and this is 2008. And that’s the best part about baseball, that the end of one year signifies the beginning of another. The hope for a more prosperous season and another run at the playoffs starts for the Angels today against the Minnesota Twins and this Halo fan can’t wait until 4:12pm PST for that first pitch from the Metrodome.